


Real

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Canadian Idol RPF, Canadian Music RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Heart-to-Heart, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Wordcount: 100-2.000, Written in 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-08
Updated: 2010-08-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 00:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You get to experience everything. All the things that make you happy...and especially all the things that don't."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real

Whichever producer's idea it was for everyone to get to sleep early was obviously crazy. The excitement of so many things, including having everyone back in the mansion for at least a few nights, meant bouncing off the walls, guitars at play, and general restlessness. Mitch certainly knew the feeling as he rolled back and forth on his mattress. At least Drew had retreated to the spare bedroom a while ago, so he wasn't annoying anyone but himself.

Even if he kinda wished he wasn't even doing _that_. Tomorrow was ticking closer by the minute, a tomorrow that one way or another would be the first day of the rest of his life, and here his mind and heart were racing like crazy.

He tried chalking it up to plain ol' nerves, but somehow that wasn't working.

Mitch was ready to bury his head under his pillow and just scream in frustration, but a shuffle of feet outside his door quelled _that_ opportunity for embarrassment. Theo stood at the threshold in bare feet and baggy sweats and rubbing his forehead. _He_ certainly looked like he'd been run over quite a few times.

"Y'OK, man?"

Theo shook his head. "Nah, I totally forgot Adam snores. Mind if I crash?"

"Go 'head." Mitch curled his legs up as Theo flopped on the end of the bed, letting out a loud sigh as he did so.

Mitch hugged at his pillow and automatically tossed the other one for Theo to hold. Something was better than nothing.

The young man curled around it tightly, and a growl came from his end of the bed.

"Same to you, fella."

"That wasn't it," Theo rolled onto his back, holding the pillow to his stomach. "I think my breakfast is trying to escape."

"'Least you were able to eat," Mitch chuckled.

Theo shuffled around on the mattress until he faced the other man. "I really shouldn't have," he said quietly.

Mitch sighed and sat up to face his friend in the eye better. "Trust me, that's the least of your worries."

Theo just shrugged and sat up as well, still clutching to the pillow. He always looked this way after returning to the mansion, after the cameras were off- tired, run down, uncertain. It's not like that wasn't expected, Mitch had seen it on everybody, including himself, but somehow this look was even _more_ heartbreaking.

Not that he knew what to say about it.

After a long moment of silence, Theo began tracing the stitching on the mattress with a finger. "Man, this is it. After tomorrow night, no matter what...bam, it's all gonna be different. I dunno if I can take it," his voice wavered.

Yep, he was a bundle of nerves, all right. Mitch tried to think of something to cheer him up. "Y'wanna talk nervous? First time 'fore I sang with my family, I must've been yay high-" he lifted his hand about a foot above the bed- "I thought the frogs were gonna leap right out my throat."

Theo chuckled; it was better than nothing. "What did y'do?"

He shook his head and smiled at the memory. "I didn't tell Momma, that was for sure. I just wanted to sing so much."

A nod from the young man. "You're something else," he said softly. If Mitch hadn't known any better, he'd've sworn that was the voice Theo used just for him. "You knew you had something to share, and you went right ahead."

Mitch felt himself go a little red in the face and looked down. "Yeah, well, what's the point of installing fluorescent lighting under the bed?" That was something often said in his family, something he'd never really figured out until recently.

At least Theo looked more relaxed than earlier. He scooted up on the bed to be sitting beside Mitch. "I remember before one of my first plays, I thought I was gonna pass right out. I'd nearly forgotten my lines until the moment I walked out there...hearing and knowing I had everybody's approval, kinda brought it all back." He sighed. "But this is different."

And reality, _real_ reality, came back. This was no town festival or school play. The moment the "winning" name was called, this was _it_, millions of people seeing you, recognizing you, criticizing you, public persona- the good, the bad, and the ugly. Succeed and be lauded beyond your wildest dreams, fail and come as the scared little kid from a small town you still imagined yourself to be.

Whoever said this format was a good crash course for a career was also crazy. Suddenly the "old-fashioned" way didn't seem so bad.

"What do you plan to do..." Mitch waved a hand, "y'know, after all this?"

Theo shrugged like it didn't matter at all to him, even if a serious musician like himself knew it mattered a hell of a lot. "Well, the top two get signed right away no matter what, right?" he asked, making it sound like the country was just wasting its time at this point. "Either way, I hope they'll let me work on my own music. I can't sing other peoples' songs forever."

Mitch nodded in understanding. Such was the double-edged sword to trouble any artist hoping to succeed away from this format.

A pair of extra-boisterous dueling guitar chords sounded from downstairs, along with Earl's unmistakable laughter.

"Kind of a kick in the pants, isn't it?" Theo asked suddenly. "Pacify us on covers, then kick us out into the real world and hope no matter what we churn out, we'll still be able to make people feel what we feel like we did every week."

Mitch slid further down on the mattress, gripping the pillow in his fingers in anxiety. Just like Murphy's Law to bring things out in the open that no one dared say aloud. "I-isn't that a good thing?" he asked falteringly.

"It's damn necessary equipment. Beethoven and the Beatles had it in spades."

By this point in the conversation, he wasn't looking Mitch directly in the eye anymore, but more like he was conversing with the wall. The young man didn't take it as an insult, he still knew Theo was talking to him and not at him. Serious musicians had to be entitled to a moment of intense focus, right?

"So...what's the bad part?" he finally asked. A tarnish to every gold coin.

Theo sighed and turned his attention back to his friend. "You get to experience everything. All the things that make you happy...and especially all the things that don't."

Still facing Mitch but not saying anything, he slid on the mattress to be curled in a ball once again, one arm outstretched. The young man looked down to take in every detail with his eyes; the fingertips with faintly visible calluses, nails with an awkward clipping pattern (anything to cover the bite marks of nervousness, every week in makeup at least one person got a lecture about biting).

Whether or not this was a real reaching out, there was only one way to know. Carefully Mitch stretched out an arm, his fingertips faintly brushing Theo's.

"If this business ever makes you unhappy, whatever reason...call me and I'll drop everything, OK?" Maybe an impossible promise, but whispered at this late hour with only the two of them to hear made it feel more real.

Theo's smile may have been weary, but the tiny crinkles in the corners of his eyes told Mitch it was all genuine.


End file.
